


Five-Minute Studies

by starlady



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic, Fluff, Graduate School, M/M, String Quartet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-21
Updated: 2013-08-21
Packaged: 2017-12-24 04:56:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/935639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlady/pseuds/starlady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wrote these for a five-minute prompt-meme for luninosity in February. I was thinking about them the other day, and I thought I'd put them up here.</p><p>In chapter one Charles is a grad student and Erik is an engineer. Chapter two is a string quartet AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Writing Your Dissertation in Fifteen Minutes a Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luninosity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luninosity/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik is an engineer, Charles is a science Ph.D. candidate.

Erik's meeting ran late at work, and then he missed the last peak train and had to wait, and by the time he got back to their apartment it was nearly 7:15. Well, they'd have something quick for dinner--he'd bought the ingredients for the Smitten Kitchen pasta with broccoli pesto, that wouldn't take very long at all to prep.  
  
His train of thought--first he had to start the water, and then cut up the broccoli so he could steam it, and then--derailed completely when he stepped into the apartment and heard no answer when he announced, "Charles, I'm home."  
  
"Charles?" Erik poked his head into the kitchen and frowned when he saw the note on the whiteboard on the fridge. _Ran back to the lab--I'll be back soon. Love you. C_  
  
Pulling his phone out of his pocket and dialing the shortcut for Charles, Erik put the phone between his ear while he bent to get the spaghetti pot out from the cabinet under the counter. Charles picked up just as he turned on the faucet. "Hello?"  
  
"Hi," Erik said, "it's me. Charles, where are you? Are you still at the lab?"  
  
"Yes." Charles sounded unhappy. "I'm sorry, Erik, I just--"  
  
" _Charles_ ," Erik interrupted, knowing he was close to sounding petulant, "you remember our deal, don't you?"  
  
"Yes, I remember," Charles muttered. "But I just--" He trailed off, and Erik pictured him biting that lovely red bottom lip.  
  
"I know you want to finish as soon as you can," Erik said, transferring the pot of water to the stove and turning on the burner. "But you need to eat, Charles, and to relax a bit. And I want to see my fiancé at least once a day. Just so I know you're still alive."  
  
"I'm sorry," Charles said, and sighed. "Look, this last analysis should be done in about fifteen minutes, okay? I should be home by 7:45."  
  
"Good," Erik said. "Then you'll be just in time for dinner."  
  
"Okay. Sorry. See you soon. I love you."  
  
"I love you too," Erik said, opening the fridge to get out the broccoli. "7:45. Don't be late."

 

Charles walked in the door at 7:42, just as Erik was draining the pasta. "Hi," he murmured when Erik put the empty pot back on the stove, ignoring shaking the colander in favor of wrapping his arms around Charles and pulling him close.  
  
"Hi," he returned, and then tipped Charles' head up and kissed him.  
  
"Mmm," Charles said when they pulled back, tucking his face into Erik's neck. "You sound tired. Long day?"  
  
"Yeah, kind of," said Erik, tightening his arms around Charles' waist and relishing the way Charles' arms around his chest tightened in response. "But it's better now that you're here."  
  
Charles laughed. "Oh darling, you say the nicest things."  
  
"That's because they're true," Erik murmured, planting a fond kiss on the part of Charles' soft brown hair before he pulled back. "Dinner's almost ready, I just have to blend the pesto."  
  
"What about our deal?" Charles asked, pouting, and Erik rolled his eyes.  
  
"The pasta'll get cold if we do the steps out of order," he said firmly. "Go set the table."  
  
Grumbling, Charles pressed a kiss to Erik's cheek and then opened the cabinet, getting out cups before going in the drawer for silverware. Erik put together the immersion blender and then plugged it in, carefully adding the cream to the broccoli before blending them together.  
  
The deal they'd made was simple: for the semester in which Charles was finishing his dissertation, Erik would make dinner and wash the dishes. In return, Charles would be home at 6:30 every evening and set the table, and they wouldn't go to bed before they'd had sex at least once.  
  
Charles had admitted that he wasn't sure he was making much faster progress than other people he'd known, even with the added incentive of dinner and Erik every night. "But," he'd said thoughtfully a few nights ago, yawning, "I'm certainly in much better spirits than anyone else I know at this stage."  
  
"Good," Erik had murmured, already falling asleep, and the sound of Charles' happy laughter followed him down into his dreams.  
  
Now, Charles looked up at him with a smile when Erik handed him his plate of pasta. "Thank you," he said, with a tenderness in his expression that Erik knew meant he was thinking of more than this particular dinner.  
  
He smiled back, and when Charles handed him his glass of wine he didn't let him go, pressing his knuckles to his lips. "You're welcome," he said, meaning _I love you_ , and Charles' even brighter smile, and the look in those blue eyes, said _I know_.


	2. Dragonsbane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> String quartet AU. Charles is first violin, Raven is second violin, Hank plays viola (of course he does), and Erik is the cellist.

" _Dragonsbane_?" Erik asked when Charles handed him the latest Finale-created score, still warm from the printer. "I thought I was the dramatic one."  
  
The lovely pink flush that stained Charles' cheeks and nose--not deep enough to hide those two delicious freckles--made Erik selfishly glad he'd said it, not to mention a bit warm himself. "It's a provisional title," Charles muttered. "I'm open to suggestions for something better."  
  
"Whatever," Raven said, carefully unfolding her own part out on her music stand. "Let's give it a try. Charles, what tempo did you want for this first movement? Or--I guess it doesn't really have movements, huh."  
  
"No," Charles agreed, "but the tempo changes are marked, and each of the time signature changes takes place over a good two measures."  
  
"Fuck me," Raven muttered, staring at her part as she did some trial air-bowing.  
  
"I'd bitch about you trying to kill us," Hank said, pushing his glasses up his nose while he frowned at his part, and then at Charles' full score, "but you saved the worst for yourself and Erik, it looks like."  
  
"Erik can take it," Charles said, and Erik preened a little, his face safely hidden in his own part. Hank was right; some of these passages were going to be a bitch. There was no way he'd be able to get all of them on the first sight-read.  
  
"TMI!" Raven said loudly, not looking up from scribbling bow markings onto her part, and Charles only blushed deeper. Erik gave her his most shark-like smile when she did glance up, trying not to wonder how far down Charles' chest that particular blush went.  
  
"Erik has an extra incentive that the rest of us don't," Hank muttered, and then he leaned over to look at Erik's part. "Jesus. I guess you are good in bed, Charles."  
  
"He's very good," Erik smirked, just to see Charles go completely scarlet. "He can play _and_ compose, after all."  
  
"Yes--I--well--Can we _please_ focus on quartet practice?" Charles said when he'd stopped spluttering. "You know, the reason we're in residence here?"  
  
"Whatever you say, lover boy," Raven said, with a wicked grin for her brother, tucking her pencil behind her bow ear.  
  
"Lead us, oh egomaniac," Hank intoned solemnly, setting his own pencil on the stand before plucking his viola's G string a few times, though they'd tuned when they'd first sat down.  
  
"Are you ready for this?" Charles asked, looking over at Erik, who smiled at him, settling his cello a little more firmly between his knees.  
  
"Let's find out," he said, and let Charles give them the cue to take up their instruments, and then the five-count into the piece.

 

"But really, what did you think of it?" Charles asked three hours later, when they'd made their way back to their tiny apartment, which was dominated by laptops, music stands, the piano, stacks of sheet music and a truly impressive sound system that had cost more than the piano.  
  
Erik hummed, pressing his nose into Charles' hair. "It's good," he said. "Though I'm not sure my fingers will forgive you if you turn into the next Conlon Nancarrow--"  
  
Charles gasped out a laugh and turned in Erik's arms, those talented violinist's fingers worming their way under his shirt and tracing out his lower ribs. "I'll make it up to you, and your fingers," he said, voice going low in his throat. "Tell me what you want, darling, and I'll give it to you--"  
  
"You," Erik breathed, bending down and kissing Charles, their tongues moving together in a sequence that needed no annotation. "And that beautiful flush you get--just like that, yes, except--" His fingers, though he hadn't been lying about the soreness at the tips of the ones of his instrument hand, made quick work of Charles' buttons, and Erik stroked them lightly over the pale skin of Charles' chest, enjoying Charles' shiver. "See, this one only goes about as far as your nipples." To prove his point, he bent his head and licked one of them, enjoying Charles arching up against his mouth with one of his lilting moans.  
  
Erik's all-time favorite of Charles' compositions was the symphony of noises he made during sex, but of course that piece was strictly improvisational, and only for private performance.  
  
"Tease," Charles growled when he'd caught his breath, and slid his fingers into Erik's hair, rubbing lightly at Erik's scalp. Erik moaned a little against his chest; he'd always liked Charles' fingers on him.  
  
"It's only a tease if I don't put out," Erik murmured, nipping at Charles' collarbone. "And I think you'll find I'm quite willing to put out."  
  
"I believe it, given the way you spread your legs every time you play your instrument, do you have any idea what it _does_ to me, thinking about you sitting across from me like that--" Charles kissed him again, biting at his lower lip, and Erik moaned around his tongue.  
  
"Show me," he breathed against Charles' mouth when he pulled away. "Show me I'm yours, Charles. I'm yours."  
  
" _Mine_ ," Charles agreed, as commanding as any concertmaster, and then they finally, finally, stumbled together into their bedroom, and their bed.


End file.
